


Saving the Stag

by FaeOrabel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad French, Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Coffee, Coffee Shop Owner Harry Potter, Coffee Shops, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, French Characters, Gay Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Harry Potter, Pansexual Character, Pansexual Harry Potter, Sweet, Sweet Harry Potter, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26172847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeOrabel/pseuds/FaeOrabel
Summary: France, Coffee, and Blaise too-fucking-gorgeous-to-be-real Zabini.When Harry leaves Britain after feeling like he's done everything that everyone has always expected of him, he stumbles upon a sweet cafe in France with a couple who take him under their wings. In a show of fate, he saves the cafe from closing and finds a home there. What will happen to Harry's quiet routine when Blaise-fucking-Zabini decides to spend some time in his French home and starts frequenting that same cafe?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 12
Kudos: 316
Collections: Magical Vacation Manip/Writing Fest





	Saving the Stag

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello!
> 
> I feel like I haven't been around in a while. let's change that shall we?? life has been kinda fucky lately, but my story-producing rate should pick up this month. lots of fests and so little time-i actually had to start saying no, you guys. I know right? it's a miracle or the apocalypse. I haven't decided which.
> 
> this was written for Hermione's Nook Magical Manip Vacation Fest!
> 
> the picture I got is at the top of the story and was made by the ever-wonderful KoraKwidditch. she also alpha'd and beta'd this piece bc she's a fucking beast. I seriously love her, y'all. 
> 
> big thanks to Hermione's Nook for putting this on and forever putting up with me. love you guys like family. 
> 
> enjoy~

**Saving the Stag**

_by FaeOrabel_

* * *

Harry walked into Cafe Stag as he did every morning. Clicking the lock back in place since it wasn’t yet time to open, he placed his things in the seat he claimed ever since he moved to France. He walked into the back and leant his shoulder against the doorway that separated the two areas of the shop, smiling at the laughing couple as they pulled pastries from the big ovens. 

“Oh, Harry! Grab those chocolate vol-au-vents out of the oven before they burn,” Effie called to him. 

Harry’s smile widened as he ran to the oven and grabbed a pair of mitts before taking his favourite pastry out and setting it on the large island where they had the other trays out for cooling. He picked one up, whispering a cooling charm, and quickly stuffed it into his mouth, practically moaning at the taste. 

“I don’t know how you eat those straight out of the oven every morning, boy,” Joe mentioned, shaking his head. 

Harry just shrugged with a grin and wandered back out to the front of the cafe to start the brewers. After grabbing his favourite mug, he poured some of the roast they had put on before he got there and went back over to his table with his vol-au-vent and coffee. He took a deep breath of the mouth-watering aroma and greeted the employees that began to wander in for the morning shift. 

Harry always got there early so he could get his coffee and pastry before everyone else arrived, and so he could see the Boulanger’s. Opening his laptop, he entered his own little world as the shop filled around him. 

He moved to Metz a little over a year ago, and he loved every minute of it. He’d picked the place at random, knowing there was a Wizarding town nearby that he could live in and, a small apparition jump away, Paris de Magique that he could use for international travel. The greatest thing about the town was that no one would know him there. 

After the war, he became an Auror just like everyone expected him to. He and Ron had taken Kingsley’s offer of an expedited track and went straight into helping them hunt rogue Death Eaters after just a scant six months of training. They’d rounded the last one up three years to the day after the Battle of Hogwarts. Entirely on his last brain cell, the Death Eater had tried to break into Hogwarts, thinking he could resurrect Voldemort on the day he died at the site of his death. Well, needless to say, that had been one of the easiest captures. 

After that, Harry had felt adrift, like everything important that he was meant to do was done. He didn’t actually like being an Auror, and he absolutely hated the paperwork. He’d only joined because he felt like everyone already assumed he was going to. It was easier to just go along with expectations then face the “oh my god what the fuck am I going to do with my life” question. 

The week after the last Death Eater found his way to a now dementor-free Azkaban, Harry quit, packed up Grimmauld Place, and moved to France. He’d also picked Metz because there was enough tourism that he could get by not knowing a lick of French. 

Effie and Joe were teaching him as they taught him about coffee, but they were way too kind when it came to being honest about his progress in the language. 

Effie and Joe, themselves, had actually been British natives. They’d moved away after they were married nearly 40 years ago and never looked back, opening Cafe Stag and enjoying their life. 

Harry had stumbled upon the Cafe by accident—or fate—one day when he was roaming the city, trying to learn his surroundings. He’d seen the motif of a Stag across the way and followed it to the Cafe. He’d stood and stared at the sign for a good fifteen minutes until finally entering an hour before they closed for the day. 

Effie was the first one to greet him, and they became fast friends—or as much of a friend a 60-year-old and 22-year-old could be. She was more like a mom to him, or grandma, if you asked her. 

Harry visited more than twice a week at first, always sharing a coffee with Effie, and then also Joe, until finally trying their pastries. Effie had made him slowly try one of everything during his visits until Harry had found his favourite in flavored vol-au-vents. He just loved the gooey chocolate filling and fluffy crust; it never got old. 

About two months into their friendship, Harry found himself visiting twice a day, once during their morning hours and once after they’d closed and opened back up for the afternoon siestas. Harry loved the easy living in the town and that all shops closed for an afternoon break after lunch. It was so different from life in England, where everyone was so focused on working their lives away.

It was during one of those visits that he’d seen a man in a pressed suit, sticking out like a sore thumb in the casual cafe setting, seemingly harassing Effie. He was just about to step in when the man finally left in a huff, and Harry was right there when Effie broke down in tears to comfort her. She hadn’t told him that day what it was all about, but one of the regular workers had confided in him that they were trying to raise money so Joe and Effie could keep the Stag. 

“Keep the Stag? Where would it go?” Harry had asked, oblivious. 

“Zey’re not making enough money to keep it open. Zey eizher ‘ave to sell or find enough money for an—ehm— _ acompte _ on finally owning ze shop instead of just  _ le louage _ . We are taking up a collection, but we jus ‘aven’t got enough donations.”

The idea had been planted firmly in Harry’s head from that point on; he just needed to find a way to mention it to Effie without offending her. 

Effie had finally confided in him a week later, after another visit from a different man in a suit. This one Harry had butted in on and firmly told to leave. 

Apparently, they were representatives from Starbucks France, and they were trying to get Effie and Joe to sell to them since they didn’t have any major holdings in Metz. Effie refused to let the place become a chain, knowing none of her employees would be kept on, and everything about the Cafe would change. Ideally, she and Joe would find the money so they could buy the building, but they only had very little in savings. Everything they made went back into the shop or their employees’ paychecks. 

Harry had been very quiet when he finally broached his idea. 

“What if I buy it, Effie?” he asked. 

“Buy it? You mean the whole store? Harry, where would you find the money?” Effie had exclaimed, grabbing both of Harry’s hands across the little cafe table he’d now thought of as ‘his spot.’

“Actually, I wouldn’t have to find it. I probably already have more than enough to buy the Cafe and everything needed to keep it running,” Harry shrugged, never very comfortable with just how rich he was; he usually just ignored the growing galleons in his vault. He’d invested in certain things like Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and the like on Hermione’s advice, so that even when he wasn’t working—which he wasn’t—he would still be making money. 

That, on top of his inheritance from the Potter and Black lines, and the reparations granted him from the Ministry at the end of the war, Harry wouldn’t have to work a day in his life and could buy ten Cafe Stags. 

“You—but—oh, Harry,” Effie started getting a little emotional. “I would love it if you bought it. As long as you promise to keep everything the same, and keep most of my little ducklings, I’d be thrilled for you to take over Cafe Stag.”

“No, no, no, you misunderstand me, Effie,” Harry held up a hand while passing her his handkerchief. “I would buy the Cafe’s building for you and Joe. Think of it like… a private investor. I buy the building and help with whatever other costs you need, but the place is in yours and Joe’s name. Nothing would change, you’d still run the place—if that’s what you wanted, of course.”

Effie was speechless, but said she’d have to talk to Joe about it. For the next couple days, Effie seemed… wistful, reminding him more of a mild version of Luna than Mrs Weasley as she’d always done.

Finally, Joe approached him one day and shook his hand. They went over everything, Joe getting just as emotional in his own, silent way, and Harry started the process. Harry had tried to keep everything between the three of them, so naturally, the whole staff knew. The whole thing ended up taking long enough to be a quiet birthday present to himself last year.

Harry looked up from his computer game to find Effie tapping him on the shoulder.

“Harry, I want you to meet one of my wayward ducklings. I’ve known him since he was just a little one, but I haven’t seen him in about four years now,” Effie explained, gesturing to someone just out of Harry’s line of sight. 

Harry smiled, Effie loved introducing him to people as if he actually was her real grandson. Saving his place, he stood and turned to walk over to where Effie had motioned and froze. 

Standing at the counter, looking like a runway model as always, was Blaise Zabini. 

Collecting himself, Harry walked over with Effie and plastered a more strained version of the usual smile he always wore. He stuck a hand out to shake Zabini’s when Effie prompted him. 

“Zabini,” Harry nodded. 

“France, Potter?” Zabini smirked. “Seems a little too opulent for you.”

Effie smacked Zabini’s arm, and Harry was thrilled to note he looked properly chastised. 

“You be nice, Blaise. So, I take it you know each other then?” Effie asked.

“We went to school together, Effie,” Harry smiled warmly at the matron. “I haven’t seen him since graduation, though.”

Harry looked back to Zabini, hoping and praying he didn’t say anything about him being a veritable celebrity in their world. 

“Oh! Well, how wonderful! Joe and I have known little Blaise here since he was about four when he and his mother would come in to visit on their vacations. I swear that woman would hold parties sometimes just so I could cater them.” Effie laughed heartily, and Harry could see a glint in Zabini’s eye that made it seem like that was a more than accurate assessment of Mrs Zabini’s actions toward the couple. 

“A private investor bought the Cafe almost a year ago, and it has been a dream not to have to worry about dealing with those vultures from Starbucks or those evil property managers, raising the rent every year. I knew when we said goodbye to the old property managers things would change, but I didn’t think it would almost lead to losing the Stag!” 

Effie caught Zabini up on everything he seemingly missed, and Harry just listened politely, wondering at his luck that he and Zabini would be taken on as sons by the same random woman in a nondescript French city. Of course it had to be Blaise fucking-too-gorgeous-to-be-real Zabini as well. 

Harry was fucked. 

It turned out, Harry’s luck was worse than he thought. Zabini told them both he’d be around for a while, deciding to live in his mother’s French home, just around the corner from where Harry lived. Harry wanted to bang his head through a wall. 

The next couple of days were almost the same as they’d always been, if not for the handsome man constantly breaking into Harry’s little slice of solace. Zabini—Blaise as he’d told Harry to call him—would visit every day around noon for a coffee and raspberry croissant. He’d stop and talk with Effie for a while, and then he’d make sure to pass by Harry’s table and say hello. They’d exchange small talk, Blaise asking him about whatever he happened to be working on that day. It was usually random computer games or writing—not that he was any good at writing; it was more a therapy exercise that Hermione had suggested. Write about everything that had happened to him to get it all out and then finally let it all go. 

Harry also looked around the net at little things he could do with his fortune. He’d helped random charities and shelters, Muggle and Wizarding alike, donating anonymously whenever he could. He also made sure to keep up on the news in his world, though everything was boring enough that exposés on whatever some random person wore to whatever event was happening still qualified as news for the front page. 

He wrote Hermione and Ron about every week, sometimes more, but he still hadn’t told anyone where he disappeared to, just wanting some peace and quiet for a while. He figured he’d tell them soon, so they could all visit, since it’d been a little over a year. They knew he was safe and happy, though. 

When he wasn’t doing any of that, he read—a lot.

One day, Blaise decided to break from his routine and actually sat across from Harry at his little table, enjoying his croissant on a plate instead of in a to-go bag. 

Harry’s brows went straight to his hairline as he looked up over his laptop, his lips pressed together as he stared at the beautiful man in front of him.. 

“Good morning, Harry,” Blaise finally said, not looking at Harry. 

“Um, hello, Zabini,” Harry greeted. 

“Blaise, Harry,” Blaise corrected lightly and sipped his coffee, reading a newspaper from the little kiosk near the Cafe. 

“Right. Blaise,” Harry blushed slightly. 

“How are you today, Harry?” Blaise looked up at him with his eyes only, smirking, face still down toward the paper. 

“I’m fine as always. How are you?” Harry continued their usual small talk, wondering where this was going and if Blaise would be sitting with him for the rest of the day. The Slytherin enjoyed making Harry all flustered with teasing when he would pass him most days, so Harry braced himself for that. Blaise also had an obsession with saying Harry’s first name. 

“Mm, yes, you are,” Blaise said, his eyes rolling down Harry’s body and back up. “I’m well, enjoying my coffee and view.”

Harry felt his cheeks go a deep red, and he looked back at his computer screen so he didn’t have to see the absolute  _ leer _ on Blaise’s face. He always did this! He would say something to make Harry turn red, and then he would leave, only this time  _ he wasn’t leaving _ , and Harry didn’t know what to do about that. 

“Any plans for the day?” Harry asked, trying to move the conversation away from himself. 

“I thought I’d just sit here with you for the day,” Blaise commented, his attention back on the paper. 

“Oh. Okay,” Harry stuttered a bit. Why today of all days? “I’m sorry I’m not doing anything terribly interesting.”

Blaise smirked again and Harry knew something was coming to embarrass him again, “Oh, I think just sitting here is more fun than most activities, but I could think of a few others I’d enjoy doing with you.”

Harry choked on his own saliva as he breathed in, so he tried to drown his coughs with his coffee. Effie came bustling over and patted him on his back, trying to help him dislodge whatever was in his throat. Too bad that happened to be his heart. 

“Don’t want you to mess up your fancy suit, now do we, duckling. You look so nice today!” Effie patted his cheek when he finally stopped coughing. 

It was true; Harry had dressed up a bit today. No one knew it was because it was— 

“I assume he has some exciting plans for his birthday, Mama Effie,” Blaise said with a raised eyebrow, using his pet name for Effie to seem innocent. 

“Oh!” Effie exclaimed, and Harry shot Blaise a glare once he recovered from the fact Blaise somehow knew when his birthday was. “We must do something to celebrate my little angel duckling!” 

Effie bustled away to the back, where Harry could only assume she was making him a cake big enough to feed the entire store.

“Thanks for that,” Harry grumbled.

“Anything for you, Harry,” Blaise smiled with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

They sat in silence for a little while, until it was time for the shop to close for the afternoon. Harry packed up his things, putting them all in his cloth messenger bag he carried with him every day. 

Blaise stood, returned his dishes, and even grabbed Harry’s, before coming to stand beside the table again, seemingly waiting for Harry. 

“Did you need something else?” Harry asked, perturbed by the attention he was getting from Blaise today. 

“Would you like to take a walk with me? I know you’ll just return here when they open back up, but I was wondering if you’d like to walk with me until then?” Blaise asked, looking as if he might actually be covering up the fact he was nervous. As if Harry would ever turn him down.

“Sure,” Harry acquiesced with a shrug, motioning for Blaise to lead the way. 

Blaise led him down the street, showing him little side streets and other small shops. He told Harry about several of his memories from living here part-time over the summers growing up, and Harry listened, enthralled to learn more about the man. Eventually, the conversation turned to him, and he tried to explain to Blaise his reasoning for disappearing. Surprisingly, the Adonis-fallen-to-earth understood. It was also part of his own rationale for deciding to vacation in France for the summer again. 

“I can’t imagine leaving now, though,” Blaise said with a short glance to his side where Harry walked next to him.

“I felt the same way when I met Effie and Joe. It was like fate stumbling upon their Cafe and finding a home. That’s probably why I just couldn’t let them lose the place. Now—”

“What do you mean, couldn’t let them lose the place?” Blaise interrupted uncharacteristically. 

“Oh, uh. Well, that’s why Effie calls me her angel duckling. When they were going to lose the shop, I bought the whole building for them and gave it to them to continue running. I keep trying to explain to her that that’s not what an angel inves— “

Harry wasn’t able to finish his sentence again, but this time it was because he suddenly found his arms full of Slytherin and his mouth covered by Blaise’s incredibly soft lips. 

Harry’s body stiffened before he felt a hand thread through his hair, and suddenly, he was closing his eyes and grabbing Blaise’s hips to hold him in place. He kissed the taller man back with fervour, noting that he now understood what people meant by their brains shutting off. Harry felt like his entire world shut down, and all there was left was Blaise, kissing him. 

Just as suddenly as the kiss started, Blaise pulled away. For once, he was the one with red cheeks and a flustered disposition. 

“Oh, Salazar, I’m so sorry. I was just so grateful that you saved their shop that I couldn’t help myself. They’ve been in my life for so long; they truly are like family. My mum tried to help out as much as she could over the years, but since they were Muggles, she couldn’t be seen doing much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if they lost the Stag.” He took a deep breath, having said that all in a rush of air. “I’m so sorry,” Blaise stuttered out his apologies. 

Harry chuckled, throwing his head back, “Trust me, Blaise. I didn’t mind it one bit.”

“But I didn’t even ask if you were interested in men before practically throwing myself at you. It was quite rude of me,” Blaise continued to apologise, but Harry noticed he wasn’t letting go or stepping away. 

“I don’t know if I’m interested in men,” Harry shrugged, and Blaise finally started to step out of his arms. Harry grasped on tighter, though. “But I know I’m interested in  _ you. _ ”

Blaise froze, letting Harry pull him back into his embrace. 

“You are?” Blaise asked. 

“I feel like you’d have to be an idiot not to be. A gorgeous man, constantly complimenting me, and quite often leaving me speechless? I have the attention most people would kill for. Plus, you never seemed interested in just my… status. But actually me. Yes, I’m very interested Blaise. Even if you do go out of your way to make me flush every day.”

“That’s just because the colour is so cute on you. You were the one Gryffindor who could pull off red,” Blaise smirked, finally gaining back his confident demeanour and leaning into Harry again. 

“So, would you like to go on a date sometime?” Harry asked nervously. He had never asked out someone before, and his stomach fluttered with butterflies. Ginny had been the only other relationship he’d ever had, and she did most of the work there. 

“I made reservations for us tonight for dinner,” Blaise announced with a smile. 

“How presumptuous of you,” Harry teased, enjoying being the one to do it finally.

“Well, I figured if you weren’t interested, I would just invite Effie and Joe and make it a family affair,” Blaise raised a brow. 

“Please don’t do that. I’d like you all to myself for our first date, thank you,” Harry quickly clarified. 

“Duly noted, Potter,” Blaise smirked, leaning in to kiss the corner of Harry’s mouth. 

“It’s Harry. Just Harry,” Harry smiled and chased Blaise’s lips for another proper snog. 

  
  


* * *

translations:

 _acompte_ : down payment, installment, advance

 _le louage_ : renting

"eizher": just 'either' but make it fashion(French)


End file.
